Guilt
by flashing-stark
Summary: It should have been Billy. Maybe then Michael would be okay.


Billy was never the one to really come up with plans, he left that job up to Michael or even Casey. To be honest he would rather go along with a fabulous plan made by someone else than to be that person. This time there was no one else to come up with a plan, and Michael's life depended on it.

"Can ye walk, even a little bit?" Billy crouched down beside Michael. It was just their luck to be dumped in the middle of the desert after being shot at.

Michael attempted to stand on his own, but the pressure he put on his left leg was so unbearable he had to lean on Billy in order to be upright. "Just barely, I'm going to be leaning on you just to walk."

The Scotsman nodded and looked down at the bullet wound on his friends leg. Blood was seeping through his trousers and dripping onto the sand a grand crimson red. He had to stop the bleeding or Michael would have no chance at waiting to be rescued. Quickly, he ripped the long sleeve from his shirt and tied it around the wound as tightly as possible. The blood was already visible on the sleeve.

"That oughta do you good until we get to the nearest mark of civilization."

"The closest place might be about fifteen miles north, that's where Casey and Rick set up shop."

Fifteen fucking miles. Billy's confidence for Michael diminished slightly, but he couldn't give up so easily. "Right, you lean yer pretty little head on me and I'll get us there," his plucky voice gave Michael a smile.

Slowly they began to walk, or limp, north. Michael's arm was around Billy's neck, gaining much needed support but his leg still slowed them down considerably. At this rate it would take them ages to get help.

But still they continued on in the heat, beads of sweat forming across their faces. They had been walking for aproximately two hours by Billy's thinking, and they seemed to barely cover a mile's walk. The sun was going down but the head didn't lessen on the two men. Michael was droopy, obviously the walk had taken a toll on him. Billy opted that they would stop and rest, take up the rest of the walk when it was light.

Billy helped Michael into a sitting position, then sat down himself right across from the man. "How're you feeling?"

"Like shit, thanks for asking," his cracked lips curved upwards into a smile. Billy returned a half-assed smile that fell as soon as it was visible.

For some reason he blamed himself. Billy knew there was no reason for it, even if Casey were in his place events would not have changed. He just couldn't help but wish he had taken care of things before Michael was shot.

"Get some shut eye, Collins. We'll be better off in the morning," Michael leaned back onto the warm sand and began to drift off to sleep.

Billy did as told and laid back, his eyes staring at the dark sky. He was tired, but too worried about their situation to sleep properly. He hoped Casey and Rick would get to them soon. He hoped Michael could last without getting his wound infected until then. Most of all Billy just hoped he could kill those bastards who dumped them in the middle of no where. With that thought, he drifted off into and uncomfortable slumber.

His sleep was interrupted by the sound of a truck pulling up near them. The headlights nearly blinded Billy as he sat up and tried to see who it was. Immediately he though of Rick and Casey, and his heart leapt and a smile grew on his stubbled face. "Guys! Over here! God, I never thought I'd be so glad to see yer ugly mugs," Billy jumped up as two doors opened on the truck and two figures exited.

The two men were not Billy's saviours at all. In fact, it was those two bastards that left them to rot. "Wrong blokes, but still ugly mugs," Billy growled. One of them came at him and began throwing punches. Only one landed right on Billy's jaw, the others he was able to deflect.

Billy grabbed the man's arm as he tried to swing at him again, and cracked it backwards. The man let out a shrill scream, his arm was completely broken. He lifted his foot and kicked the side of the man's head until he was on the ground.

"Fuck! Billy!" Michael screamed. This chilled Billy to his bones. He looked over to see the other fellow kneeling over Michael, whom was screaming bloody murder. Billy ran over and knocked the man into the sand, attempting to wrestle whatever he had in his hand out of his grasp.

He bit the man's hand, prompting him to throw the unknown item out of his hand. Billy quickly reached for it and found it to be a blade. It was covered in blood. In a fit of rage Billy Collins grabbed hold of the knife and stuck it through the man's neck. Then, he jumped towards Michael to make sure he was still alive.

"Michael, talk to me mate! Are ye all right?!" He was frantic.

"H-He cut through even more. . . God, Billy it hurts so much," Michael was clenched up with pain. His eyes were watering and blood gushed out of his leg faster than before.

Billy pulled the jackets off the two men and wrapped them around Michael's wound tightly. "We've got a vehicle now, and I'm gonna to get you help. Jus' breathe and hold on for me," Billy tried to sooth his friend as he hoisted him up into his arms with much difficulty, and laid him out in the back seat of the truck. He shut the door and ran over to the drivers side and started up the engine.

They were hauling ass through the desert, Billy always looking back at Michael to make sure he was still awake. "Apply as much pressure as ye can, Michael! Gotta stop the bleeding!"

"I can't," Michael replied. "It's too painful."

"I will go back there an' make you hold it down! Jus' do as I say for once, please!" When Billy looked back Michael was applying as much pressure as his body would allow him through the pain. He was going to be fine.

They were now in town and Billy could see the lights for the hospital just a block away. "Michael, yer gonna be grand. Michael?" He looked back in the mirror and saw that Michael was now slumped against the seat. His eyes were closed and his mouth was slightly open, and his hands were no longer applying pressure. "Fuck, Michael wake up! Oh God, don't do this to me now!" Billy slammed the gas pedal right against the floor and took off down the street.

He couldn't fail Michael now. Not now, not ever.

The truck came to a screeching halt in front of the hospital; Billy didn't bother with parking it properly. Then the Scotsman leaped out of the vehicle and pulled open the back door. Michael was still unconcious. "C'mon, wake up!" He pulled Michael out the vehicle, holding him bridal style, and began walking as fast as possible into the hospital. When Michael got better Billy would have to suggest he go on a diet.

"Someone help, please! He's. . . He's my friend!" Two nurses and a doctor ran down the hall with a stretcher towards them just as Billy could not hold onto Michael any longer.

They hoisted him onto the stretcher and began taking him away. Billy attempted to follow, his legs were slowing down but he was still determined to stay with Michael.

"Sir, you can't go in there. Please stay here," the nurse put a hand on his chest and back to hold him in place.

Billy was shaking. He was terrified. "D-Do you have a phone I could use? I need to use a phone."

The nurse led him to the telephone at the nurse's station and left him to his business. Billy quickly dialed a number he knew by heart, the number belonging to someone he needed to make things okay.

"Hello?"

"Casey, it's me. They dumped us in the desert. Michael was shot in the leg and they came back and stabbed the wound and he was bleeding out and I didn't know what to do and we're in the hospital and- Oh God, Casey I need you, please get down here," Billy was a blubbering, rambling mess.

Casey sucked in a breath over the phone and shouted at Rick to get the car ready. "Billy, listen to me, he's going to be fine. You did good. We'll be there as soon as possible. Just breath for me, okay?" And then he hung up.

Casey and Rick arrived not five minutes after hanging up the phone. They found the Scotsman sitting in a chair in the waiting room with his head between his knees.

"Billy? What's the word, is Michael okay?" Rick questioned.

Billy slowly rose his head from his previous position and looked at the two men with drowsy, damp eyes. "They said he lost a lot of blood. They're trying to pump more blood into him, but there's a chance 'is body'll reject it," Billy ran his hands through his greasy hair and looked off down the hall at the room they took Michael into.

Casey knelt down in front of Billy and patted his knee. "Michael is a fighter. He will be fine."

With those words said they could hear shouts from nurses and doctors, the sound of beeping machines echoing in the building. They heard a flatline.

Billy immediately jumped out of his seat and tried to run towards the room. "Michael!" He shouted.

Casey and Rick held him back, but he was a strong man. They were barely able to keep him in the waiting room. "Collins, stand down! We know you're scared, but to be _this_ panicked?"

He grabbed Casey by his collar and pulled him close. "Ye don't get it, do ya mate? It's my fault he's in there. I-If I was quicker, if I got those guys down before they did any damage. If I was better, he wouldn't be dying just in the other room!" He cried.

The noises from the other room died down, and just as the three men presumed their friend and colleague to be dead, they heard the steady beeping of a machine. Michael was stabilized.

The next day a nurse came to the three fellows in the waiting room and said that Michael was awake. She also said that only one person at a time should go in to see him.

Casey and Rick pushed Billy to go in first, seeing as he was the most upset.

Billy looked back at them before heading into Michael's room. He was attached to and IV pole and another machine for his heart rate. "Michael?" he was careful to be quiet in case the nurse was wrong about him being concious.

She wasn't. "Collins, you look like shit," Michael laughed. Billy couldn't help but laugh with him. He probably did look like shit.

"Thanks mate. How're you feeling?"

"As good as I look. My leg should be healing up and I can get back out in the field in a couple weeks," Michael sounded healthier.

Billy nodded and leaned against the door frame. "You really gave me a scare there, pal. Thought we lost you for a bit. . ." his words trailed off as he began to think about how frightened he was. What would the ODS be without their leader? What would they be without Michael around to reel them back in?

Michael sighed. "I know, I'm sorry about that. Casey left me a note saying how freaked out you were."

Billy nodded again. "Should have been me."

"You listen here, Collins. You did great. I'm alive and well thanks to you. I don't want you blaming yourself for this, it would have happened anyways. Without you I'd probably still be in that desert. Now get out of here, go take a shower and sleep. You really do look like shit."

Billy laughed. "Thanks a lot, mate."


End file.
